


Twist of Fortune

by ChibiSquirt



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Snippets, mention of past steve/bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiSquirt/pseuds/ChibiSquirt
Summary: Post-Coital Steve thinking about sex with Sam.





	Twist of Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Fortune Cookie flashfic challenge. My fortune was, "the current year will bring you much happiness." We were all sitting around a table, writing fic, and so naturally I played to my strengths and wrote porn!

Steve rolled over onto his stomach, smiling into the pillow and breathing hard. Behind him, Sam was making <strike>adorable</strike> wheezing noises as he tried to catch his breath, his strong stomach clenched still, his delectable chest heaving. Steve tilted his head to the side, just enough to free an eye from under the fall of his bangs, and eyed Sam’s lower body, feeling smug and sly and clever as he looked. The sheet had fallen across Sam’s lower body, but not nearly high enough to hide his cock, and it was still thick and dark with hot blood, glistening from the lube where he had worked between Steve’s legs.

Not that Steve hadn’t done his own share of the work. He’d sweated and pushed back against Sam’s thrusts, reveling in the glorious feeling of Sam’s cock between his thighs, slipping in slickness of the lube they’d slapped onto his skin. For a second—

Steve’s breath caught. He’d thought about Bucky exactly once in there. It had been the moment when Sam had first driven against him, his cockhead emerging slick and vulnerable looking, so dark with arousal it was damn near in shades of purple like a particularly juicy plum on the other side of Steve’s thighs, and Steve had thought— _damn, Bucky’s wasn’t even long enough for me to see him!_ And then there had been one second, two, where the grief had just swallowed him, and then he’d thought: _He’s not here now, and **I am.**_

And then after that, Sam had started moving, and Steve hadn’t been able to think at all.

Now, though, lying here breathing ragged, smiling helplessly at the self-satisfied look on Sam’s face, he thought that was probably a blessing. He _shouldn’t_ be thinking of Bucky, not while Sam’s sweaty back was pressing against his, Sam’s lips— those _lips—_ brushing hot against his ear, not when Sam was sinking strong teeth into the muscle that ran along the sides of Steve’s neck. And it was time— more than time— for Steve to be moving on.

He’d focused enough on the years he’d lost. Time to look forward, instead; the current year was going to bring him a lot of happiness.


End file.
